I’ve known a few people who have left this area and moved out west — to Arizona, specifically, for some reason — and when I’ve had the occasion to catch up with any of them, it’s always some variation of the same idea… Me: Oh, yeah, it’s pretty hot today. Probably like 94 or 95.
Them: It’s 114 here today.
Me: Wow, that sounds terrible!
Them: Well, it’s not too bad. It’s more of a dry heat.
Me: Oh, I guess that’s not too bad then?
Them: And, of course, there’s no mosquitoes.
That last part is what makes me think J.B.L. Soule had the right idea when he opined, “Go west, young man,” back in 1851. Of course, the philosopher Toby Keith added, “Haven’t you been told? California’s full of whiskey, women and gold.” Notice neither of them mentioned 90 percent humidity or mosquitoes. Of course, I might be too far past the “young man” stage of my life to pull up stakes and head for the West Coast.
So, I guess I’m stuck swatting ‘skeeters. I could be wrong, but I think mosquitoes these days are becoming immune to whatever we’re spraying in our futile attempts to stop them from feasting on us. What we used to call “mosquito dope” when we were kids just seems wildly ineffective these days. Off!, Cutter, Repel… it doesn’t matter.
Last night, we went on a walk around 7:30 p.m. We’ve been doing some walking as a way to get a little exercise in these pandemic days, only it’s usually much earlier in the day. Well, it turns out 7:30 p.m. is apparently “dinner time” for mosquitoes. It was pretty OK if you kept a brisk pace, but if you had the nerve to stop, it was buffet time.